


Walk in the sun

by FreddieFoxBaxter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bottom Harry Potter, Dating, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Drunken Confessions, Getting Together, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter in Panties, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, Model Draco Malfoy, Nude Photos, One Shot, Only One Bed, Smut, Social Anxiety, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieFoxBaxter/pseuds/FreddieFoxBaxter
Summary: Harry is perfectly content with the life he built for himself; simple and private, it helps him heal the wounds from the war. He then accepts to go out with one of Neville’s acquaintances, never expecting that decision would bring him back to his obsession for Draco Malfoy.“That was his cue. Had Harry stopped to think about his situation, he could have left. Malfoy was nibbling at his neck, he had his hand down his pants. All things considered, a disaster incoming. And yet, his feet still refused to move. After all, he was not the stop-to-think-of-consequences kind of guy.”(Features drunken confessions, bathrooms, a lot of smut, sexy pictures, panties, cats and only one bed)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 346
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	Walk in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[98](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> I had the perfect idea for this prompt, which of course went up in flames as soon as I claimed it. This is what happened after that.
> 
> (Many, many thanks to I., for betareading and helping me making this readable, to the prompter for the great prompt, and to the mods for hosting this fest).

With a snort, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering where his life went so wrong to bring him in those gardens under the scorching sun of mid July. Of course he knew the answer. It was his ancient, squeezed-in-a-box-at-the-back-of-his-mind obsession for Draco Malfoy. It took a lot of work to be able to show up there at the right time. Three weeks worth to be exact.

Harry sighed, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his sleeve. Three weeks before he had accepted Callum’s invitation to conclude their date at his place. He couldn’t have known back then that his nod would mean the beginning of the end. Melodramatic? Maybe, but their newborn relationship died then and there for sure.

Since that night, Harry turned a blind eye to his calls. And texts. And e-mails. Consumed by the need to find Draco, Callum had instantly become a distant memory, a nuisance he hoped would soon disappear from his life.

And to think Callum caused his own demise. Using his word-wild famous work as a photographer as a rouse, he welcomed Harry into his home. And up until then, Harry had been into him. Taller, light blond, snobbish and sarcastic, Callum ticked almost all the boxes to be his type. That night he was horny and ready to sleep with him.

Then came the punch in the gut, taking his breath away and sending his mind for a hell of a spin. A black and white picture hanging on the wall with a bunch of others. Harry didn’t even bother to look at the others, his attention stuck on the stupidly pretty face of Draco Malfoy, his gaze lost in the distance, his pointy features softened by the grey shades. Enough to ruin his night, no doubt about it, but he and Callum could have survived it hadn’t he made the fatal mistake of taking his pause in front of that particular picture as a sign of interest in his work, or maybe a way to get things going. Harry didn’t ask. Callum had taken out a whole album of Malfoy’s pictures.

The first ones belonged to the same series of the framed one, but as they leafed through the pages, it became clear the relationship between photographer and subject exited the film into the real world, he didn’t need Callum to confirm it.

The professional shots turned into candids of Malfoy doing mundane things, drinking coffee, his eyebrows lifted in an amused expression, or a red-faced Malfoy wrapped up into a huge scarf not so amused-looking. Harry flinched at the final series, back to black and white. Malfoy was sprawled on the bed, naked and yet so composed, looking directly into the camera, a dangerous, daring light in his eyes. It looked so intimate and natural, no way it was staged.

And it was right then, staring at that last picture, that Harry realised he had to find Draco Malfoy, he had to find him and make him look at him like he did in the picture. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so determined as when he had stormed out of Callum’s apartment, this new mission the only thing in his mind.

Finding Malfoy would have been easier hadn’t Harry lived under a rock for the best part of the last ten years. Or had any of the Slytherins he asked gave him a proper answer.

Turned out he was looking in the wrong place. Malfoy did not, in fact, fall off of the face of the Earth. He simply moved to the last place one would look for him, the Muggle world. And, as Harry discovered in his research, he seemed to have developed a liking of having his pictures taken, building quite a career as a model, with a huge amount of followers all over his social media.

Harry still hadn’t recovered from the shock of Draco Malfoy having social media profiles, but the pictures, the interviews and the videos were all over the internet for everybody to see.

He caught a lucky break when Malfoy announced on his Instagram he would be in London for a shoot that week.

Which, ultimately, was the reason he was standing there, pressed against the barriers put up for the occasion, surrounded by people trying to catch a glimpse of Malfoy as well. Giving the man on his left a quick glance, Harry wondered if he should have brought flowers too.

He shook his head in disbelief. The ridiculousness of his situation dawned on him for the millionth time. He didn’t have a plan, he simply showed up in the hopes of – he didn’t even know what he hoped for. That Malfoy would see him among the crowd and fall at his feet?

Harry took a step back, pushing through the people quickly moving to fill the spot he just freed. 

He barely had the time to catch a breath once he was out of the crowd that somebody put a hand on his arm. He regretted the tug to free his arm when he turned and found himself face to face with a police officer.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, sheepishly smiling as an apology.

“Harry Potter?” the man barked a couple of inches from his face. Harry nodded, shivers running down his spine, hands sweating all of a sudden.

“Come with me, please.”

Harry blinked at his back. The officer’s voice had softened into a whisper and the quick eyebrows lift the police officer gave him before turning eased the weight on his chest. He reassured himself brushing the tip of his fingers against the wand safely tucked into his back pocket before following the agent down the path in the park.

Chewing over the possible consequences of disapparating right there and then, he failed to notice they were walking in circles. The agent wasn’t leading him out of the park, he simply had him walk around the trees beside the shooting spot.

Harry glanced nervously at the officers surrounding the discreet, blue trailer parked behind the trees, but nobody paid him any attention.

“Have a nice day, Sir.” The agent that brought him there said, pointing at the trailer with a flick of his hand. Harry nodded in response, careful not to turn his back on him as he walked up the steps to the door to knock.

“Come in.” The voice was different, and yet so familiar it was enough to make his heart jump in his chest. Harry rubbed the palm of his hands on the jeans before opening the door.

Malfoy was leaning against the sink, downing big sips of water out of a bottle. He had thrown a white shirt on his shoulders, but didn’t bother to button it up. Harry began to see the appeal of the underwear line he was promoting. The bright blue briefs hugged his hips, beaming under the sunlight filtering through the window, catching his eyes at Malfoy’s every movement.

“Potter,” the man greeted him, each syllable of his name rolling on his tongue, “long time no see.”

“Long time indeed,” he answered, lifting his gaze from Malfoy’s chest. He was looking back at him, arched eyebrows and curiosity shining in his eyes.

“So which one is it?” he asked before drinking the rest of the water.

Harry blinked, “Pardon?”, watching Malfoy put down the empty bottle, his eyes glued to the muscles of his forearms.

“When someone from the past comes to see me, they usually want to hex me, yell at me or shag me, therefore my question, which one is it?”

The arrogance in his tone struck Harry’s nerves, but before he could tell him off, Malfoy moved from the sink, taking a step toward him.

“It’s not hexing, or I would be bleeding by now.” Harry swallowed, enticed by Malfoy’s velvety voice, as the man tilted his head while still moving closer.

“You aren’t yelling either. That only leaves us with one possibility.” 

Malfoy stopped a few inches away from him, lips parted in a smirk, eyes darkening by the second.

Harry’s heart roared in his chest, his senses tingling his fight or flight instinct, but his feet were glued to the floor. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Malfoy leaned in closer, without breaking eye-contact.

“Which one is it, Potter?” he asked in a whisper, his tone warmer this time. 

Harry felt the electricity buzzing on his skin, Malfoy so close it was enough for every ounce of rationality he had left to fly right out the window.

Malfoy gasped on his lips when Harry closed the distance between them, throwing his arms over Malfoy’s shoulders as he seized his mouth, impatient and demanding. The man's surprise didn’t last long as he kissed him right back with matching intensity.

Harry cursed in pain when Malfoy sank his fingers into his hair, grasping at a few locks and scratching his scalp, but got distracted by the hard bulge rubbing against his thigh. Malfoy grabbed his ass to pull him closer, creating even more friction. Harry didn’t protest, enjoying the tingles running through his veins. Not even in his wildest dreams he imagined making out with Malfoy would feel so good.

Intrigued by the muffled moan that slipped out of Malfoy’s lips, Harry brushed his fingers against the bulge, in the hopes of hearing it again.

“I have to be back on set in ten minutes,” Malfoy warned instead. Harry nodded in response. Somewhat he believed the regret in his voice. Plenty he could do in ten minutes anyway.

So he slid his fingers below the elastic of his briefs, brushing against the head of Malfoy’s cock. Harry helped himself to it, his hand running down its length, rewarded by a possessive squeeze of his ass. He wrapped his fingers around its base, but Malfoy hissed at the dry friction of the first stroke.

That was his cue. Had Harry stopped to think about his situation, he could have left. Malfoy was nibbling at his neck, he had his hand down his pants. All things considered, a disaster incoming. And yet, his feet still refused to move. After all, he was not the stop-to-think-of-consequences kind of guy.

So, instead of leaving, he dropped on his knees, nuzzling against the bulge before his eyes. From above came a choked, “Oh Merlin,” followed by a sharp gasp when he grabbed the blue briefs to pull them down.

Free of its constriction, the gorgeous, pinkish cock swung at his face, hitting his cheek. Harry giggled, nervous for the first time since he came through the door, but a quick glance at Malfoy’s face reassured him the man appreciated his idea as much as he did. He closed his fingers around the base again, but instead of stroking it, he leaned closer to brush his parted lips on its head. He heard Malfoy sigh, and took it as a sign of encouragement.

Harry opened his mouth, flicking his tongue to tease him before flattening it to give it a lick, using his own saliva as make-do lube. Could have conjured some, he thought absent-mindedly, but nothing beat the taste of a sweaty cock in his mouth.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before diving in. He let its length slide down his throat, pulling back when Malfoy’s hairs tickled his nose. Moving his head back and forth, he dictated a slow, lazy pace that still had Malfoy moaning and gasping in no time.

Harry held his breath for a moment feeling the fingers back in his hair, but Malfoy chose to be gentler this time, caressing his head and playing with the unruly locks.

His cock throbbed in his pants, rubbing against the fabric at his every move. He let it out with a sigh, glad for the immediate relief as soon as he stroke it.

“Use your saliva for that, too.”

Malfoy’s voice, husky and low, startled him and made him look up. The man was staring back at him, with darkened eyes and flushed cheeks. His lips were swollen and bright red, like he had been chewing on them up until then. The flames burning inside his eyes engulfed Harry, who felt compelled to listen to his request.

Still looking right into his eyes, he pulled back to spit on his hand. He growled when he got the hand back on his dick and Malfoy must have felt it, too, because he tightened the grip on his hair and pushed his hips forward, sinking his cock down Harry’s throat. He relaxed, stroking himself as he let Malfoy choose the new pace he needed. His moans grew louder and choked as he moved faster and faster. Harry did his best to keep up, his hand quickly jerking his cock.

Orgasm mounting fast, the familiar feeling bubbling in his belly. Judging by the shivers shaking Malfoy, he was close, too.

“I want to come on your scar.”

Harry heard the words, but he was in no condition to process them.

‘This is a first’ was his last coherent thought before the feeling of Malfoy’s semen, thick and warm, hitting his face pushed him over the limit.

Malfoy’s heavy breathing above him was the only thing he could hear over the pounding of his heart. Harry fiddled with the semen dripping from his fingers, reassured by the fact that Malfoy didn’t look in any better condition. Now that his lust was sated, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself either.

“Thank you for that,” he mumbled waving his hand before Harry’s face, who almost missed the come on his forehead now that it was gone, cleaned up with a silent spell, he guessed as he got up on his feet, accepting the water bottle he was handed.

“I have to get back to work,” Malfoy said, turning his back to scribble something on a piece of paper.

“But there’s a party tonight, you should come.”

Harry frowned, studying the unknown address. “What – why are you inviting me?”

Malfoy shrugged, “I owe you one.”

Harry blinked. Another voice for his ever growing ‘Was not expecting this’ list. He watched Malfoy fix his hair for a moment, then the address again. Not like he had anything better to do, and yes, Malfoy owed him one.

“What kind of party is this?” he asked, diverting his gaze when Malfoy dropped his briefs on the floor to wear a different pair. He shrugged again, apparently unfazed by being naked in front of him.

“Just a get together with a few friends I never get to see. Meet me at nine?”

He didn’t wait for his answer. Malfoy shot him a last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the late afternoon sun.

**oOo**

“A little get together, uh?” Harry smirked as they barged through the crowded living room. He noticed a few familiar faces, but nobody close enough for him to stop and greet them. After welcoming them on the door, Zabini had disappeared again, probably busy with some sort of host-duty.

Harry had no idea what he expected when he Apparated at the address Malfoy gave him a few hours earlier, but sure Zabini Manor was not on his short lists of guesses.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows as he shrugged. “I guess Neville and Blaise have lots of friends.”

Hearing Nev’s name pronounced so candidly by Malfoy brought a smile to Harry's face. There was no animosity in his voice, no resentment, but the mere acknowledgment that was in fact Zabini and Neville’s house.

Harry was aware the two of them had been together for years, Blaise even joined the Gryffindor group on many occasions on their nights out, but he had never been at their place before. From the little time he got to know him, the house was surprisingly modern. Despite staying out of the war, the Zabinis were one of the oldest Pureblood English families, so Harry was expecting something more similar to Malfoy Manor.

Not that he had great memories linked to that place, but still.

Without paying attention to where he was going, he followed Malfoy into the kitchen, where he was studying every single bottle available on the counter.

“You like this one?” Malfoy asked him, lifting a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky.

The liquor burned down his throat, just like its label warned, but it also helped Harry ease his nerves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of having stepped into a snake pit, and having Malfoy as his guide did nothing to help him know where it was safe to put down his feet.

He refused the second round of shots in favour of a nice cold Butterbeer.

The silence fallen upon them grated at his nerves, as he frantically looked for something to say, but before he could come up with anything even remotely interesting, he gasped at the sight of a shiny-eyes, elegantly dressed Pansy Parkinson striding toward them, effortlessly fending through the crowd. He didn’t have much love to spare for the woman, the memory of her willingness to hand him over to Voldemort still bothered him when he stopped to think about it. Add to that her recent engagement to Ginny Weasley, the grimace on his face should have come with no surprise for anyone.

What did surprise him, though, was the choked “Oh no” coming from Malfoy, who rushed to down his second shot before the woman could join them.

Harry blinked, watching her throw herself into Malfoy’s arms, who hugged her tightly for a moment.

“Blaise told me you guys were here, I guess I had to come and see for myself.”

Despite her sweet tone, the light in her eyes sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He still shot her a quick smile.

Ginny had confided him how her family was giving them a hard time since she brought Pansy home, and he had sworn he would support her the best he could.

“Hi, Pansy,” he greeted her, “how are you?”

The woman shrugged, sincere amusement blooming on her face. “Well, better now that Draco owes me ten Galleons – ”

“Pan,” Malfoy barked, and Harry noticed his ears getting bright pink despite the dim lights.

“What? I told you he would come, and see? I was right!”

Harry witnessed the looks they exchanged as he connected the dots of their brief conversation.

“Wait,” he said, “You thought I was going to stand you up?”

Malfoy grimaced, the pinkish shades engulfing his cheeks, too. “I don’t know – maybe – ” he mumbled. “It was all so sudden, I thought you might change your mind…”

“Well, no I –” Harry mumbled back, “I wanted to – I didn’t change my mind.”

He didn’t need the pitiful look Pansy gave him to know how pathetic he sounded, his burning cheeks were enough for that.

“Anyway,” Pansy said, “I’ll be expecting my money by the end of the night. And, Draco, love, work on your blushing-bride act, because this isn’t it.”

She leaned in to kiss Malfoy on his cheek before walking away, immediately lost in a sea of people, leaving them still embarrassed but now alone in the kitchen.

“So,” Malfoy said after a moment. “You never told me what made you come to the set today.”

“Oh, I saw your pictures,” Harry honestly answered before he could stop himself. He shot a wide-eyed glance at Malfoy, who was looking back at him, knitted eyebrows and tilted head.

“I mean…” he rushed. “The guy I’m sort of seeing showed me pictures of you – ”

Malfoy smirked. “Sort of seeing?”

“Well, technically, yeah – ”

Harry wondered if someone at St. Mungo could do something for his Foot-in-mouth Syndrome, however Malfoy didn’t seem bothered by his confused mumbling, amusement splashed all over his face, as he chewed over his words.

“You and Callum, uh?” he then asked, his voice suspiciously cold. Harry nodded, a part of him glad there weren’t that many men with private pictures of Malfoy, although he postponed to another day the analysis of the implication of that thought.

“Technically.” Malfoy hit him with another of those smirks of his. Harry had seen them before on magazines and shootings, but having it right there, in person, that was heartbeat-skipping material. Or at least it was to Harry, who gulped down half his beer to drown the Billywigs in his stomach.

“We should go say hi to Nev,” he suggested, hoping his casual tone would sound more convincing to Malfoy’s ears than it did to his.

Slowly, the other man shrugged, “It would be rude not to.”

Malfoy brought the bottle with him as he led Harry back into the main hall. Shooting around closed-lipped smiles, he followed, doing his best to stop his gaze from slipping down on Malfoy’s arse, nicely wrapped in a pair of tight jeans.

Harry did take a peek or two, he was only human after all. And he was trying to remember if he had such a nice arse at Hogwarts, so he needed to check.

Wondering if it would be appropriate to ask, Harry bumped against him, having failed to notice Malfoy had stopped and turned.

“We might have a problem,” Malfoy warned, “Neville is chatting with Cal right now.”

“He is _what_ ? Why is _he_ here?” Harry asked, frantically looking around the room until he spotted them. Luckily for him, Callum had his back turned on Malfoy and him, he couldn’t have noticed them yet.

“What do we do?”

Malfoy chewed on his lip for a second before grabbing his arm, “I have an idea.”

“Malfoy,” he called taking in their surroundings.

“What?”

“We are in a bathroom!” Harry said, watching the other man close the door behind them and go sit inside the huge ceramic bathtub.

“I’m aware of that, thanks.”

Harry grimaced at his sarcasm drenched tone, still confused by Malfoy’s behaviour.

“Relax, Potter,” he sighed in response. “It’s a private bathroom, you need to _know_ it’s here to find it.”

“As a safety measure?” Malfoy added when confusion grew on Harry’s face, “No? It’s like a standard feature, nothing?”

Harry shook his head. No idea what he was talking about, so he shrugged. It didn’t matter anyway, he just wondered why so much of his life revolved around bathrooms.

“So,” Malfoy stopped to take a sip from the bottle, “you and Cal, uh? What does that make me? The other – man? The mistress-er?”

Harry frowned, taking place next to him in the tub. “I wouldn’t say that, we only went on a few dates – we are still getting to know each other, nothing serious enough yet to talk about mistress-ers.”

“That makes me feel better,” Malfoy sighed dramatically, “I would never participate in such immoral endeavours.”

Wrinkling his nose, Harry snorted, surprised Malfoy could actually be funny.

“You dated him too, right?”

He slowly nodded. “I did.”

“And how is he? Once you know him, I mean,” Harry insisted only to be cut off by a head shaking Malfoy.

“No, no, no, I know a trap when I see one, I refuse to fall for it.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but the other didn’t budge. Instead, he lifted his eyebrows, his eyes shining of an emotion Harry couldn’t read. He guessed he would have to try a new strategy.

“I mean, he does seem nice,” he said, carefully observing Malfoy’s expression. “A bit conceited, perhaps,” and Malfoy’s lips trembled.

“Something feels a bit off, though, but I don’t really know what…” Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened. That was all Harry needed to know. He should have trusted his guts in the first place.

Malfoy’s face had told him everything he was willing to say, so he gave Harry a smirk and offered the bottle.

“Enough about him,” Malfoy said. “What about you? From what I heard you dropped off from the face of the Earth – ”

“I haven’t – wait, did you ask about me?” Harry blurted, honestly surprised; Malfoy blushing cheeks intrigued him even more.

“Well,” Malfoy shrugged, “I was just curious about our noble Saviour, that’s all – ”

Harry flinched. He hadn’t been called that in years, and now it whipped him in the face.

“It was a joke,” Malfoy said in a small voice, but Harry saw, and appreciated the concern in his eyes. He sighed before drinking a sip of whisky, riding its burning feeling as he tried to bottle everything up.

The words came out anyway.

“I didn’t – ” he paused, “I didn’t know how to live in a world without Voldemort.” Harry ignored the grimace on Malfoy’s face at the name.

“I tried, you know? I went to funerals and functions and memorials. I got back with Ginny and told myself things were fine. I was fine.”

Harry chewed on his lip, shooting Malfoy a quick glance. The man was staring back at him, lips pressed together and knitted eyebrows. He lowered his gaze on the bottle.

“I was not fine,” he shook his head, “when he died, I had no other purpose. I was nothing. People began moving on and I was stuck.”

“I thought maybe going back where it all started might help, so I moved to Godric’s Hollow. It’s an old village, nobody lives there anymore, it’s quiet. I built a cottage next to my old parent’s house, I take care of my little garden and my parents are right down the street. I love it,” he shrugged, “I just – I guess I let the routine get the best of me. Weeks turned into years and I’m still there, on my own.”

Malfoy remained silent through all that, all traces of amusement gone from his face, and Harry was glad he didn’t see any of judgment either. He was simply listening to him. Fearing he might have said too much, he scrambled to find something positive to add.

“I mean, it’s not like I disappeared from the Wizarding World, I still go to the Burrow for lunch every Sunday, and I go for a pint with the guys, although making plans is tougher now that Ron and Hermione have kids, but still – ” Harry swallowed. He would have given up his fortune for a glass of water at that moment. He felt raw and exposed, and the piercing grey eyes staring at him didn’t make him feel any better.

“I get it,” Malfoy finally whispered, leaning in to take back the bottle.

“Well, I don’t, but I do. I was happy growing up. I know what people think of my dad, but he did love his family. We were happy.” Malfoy paused to down a sip of whisky.

“Then I turned fifteen,” he sighed, “my dad went to Azkaban, a monster moved into my childhood home and Aunt Bella was teaching me to kill people – ” his voice broke, his gaze lost in the memories of those days.

Harry blinked. He never stopped to think how things were on the other side. Death Eaters were the enemy, how they felt was none of his concern. Keeping those thoughts to himself, he waited for Malfoy to continue.

“I wanted to be an Auror, did you know that? I remember telling my mum I would be the best Auror the Wizarding World had ever seen. That I would go on adventures to catch the bad guys and keep her safe. I remember she smiled and ruffled my hair. I was just a dumb kid with big dreams. Clearly no point signing up for the Auror training programme with the Dark Mark on my arm.”

The bitterness in his voice wrenched at Harry’s heartstrings. Malfoy looked so vulnerable in that moment, sitting in a tub reminiscing of a life that could never be. He patted his arms, at a loss of words to comfort him, but Malfoy wasn’t done yet.

“So I found myself at eighteen, almost destitute, dad back in jail, mother leaving for France, alone while trying to put my life back together,” he sneered, “I’m not saying we didn’t deserve it, because we absolutely did, but it sucked, and not in the good way.”

Harry chuckled at the childish tone, glad to see the sparks back in Malfoy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop all that on you – ”

“It’s fine,” Harry shrugged, “it’s like we are catching up, sort of…”

Malfoy tilted his head, shooting him a smug smirk. “Still. Not where I saw this night going – ”

“Why – what did you have in mind?” Harry asked, batting his eyes in feigned innocence.

“Well.” Malfoy sneered. “We had such a nice prelude this afternoon, is it really so presumptuous of me to want more?” he asked, an eyebrow arched on his insufferably smug face, only this time Harry didn’t mind it at all. Having bared their past hardest moment created a bubble of intimacy between them, and inside of it Malfoy’s smugness felt almost charming.

“No,” Harry finally answered, “I had different expectations, too.” He ignored his own flushing cheeks as he stared back at Malfoy.

“Well,” the other said. “We could still have a drunk-ish, sad, post-confession quickie…”

Harry grimaced at the idea. Opening up like that smothered his enthusiasm. “Or?” he asked, hoping Malfoy had another suggestion.

“Or we go back to the party and see if that improves our mood,” Malfoy said climbing out of the tub, a bit unstable on his legs, which made Harry chuckle.

“Might be a bit drunker than I thought…” Malfoy sighed as he extended his hand to help him out of the tub.

Harry took it.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind. “What about Cal?”

“Right,” Malfoy ruffled his own hair, “I forgot about him. Ok, new plan, you wait here, I’ll go check. If he is still here, I’ll distract him so you can get out, otherwise I’ll come get you, give me five minutes.”

Before Harry could make any comment, Malfoy had closed the bathroom door behind his back, leaving him leaning against the sink, arms folded on his chest, wondering which of his words had bothered him so much. Plenty images of Malfoy _distracting_ Callum played in his mind, grating at his nerves.

Harry didn’t dare stop to think about the reasons behind the green monster feasting on his guts, he stood up to get out of the room.

“Ouch,” he whined as the door opened right on his face.

“What the – ” Malfoy sighed, “why were you behind the door?”

“I wasn’t, you git, I was coming to look for you.”

“That’s not – you know what? Never mind, he left, we can get out of here.”

Callum wasn’t the only one who left. The party had calmed down while they were locked in the bathroom, the crowd reduced to a few handfuls of people chatting around the living room, and a few more admiring the view of the gardens from the terrace.

Much more to Harry’s taste, as now the party did resemble the get together Malfoy had mentioned.

The music volume had turned down as well, Harry realised humming along the song playing in that moment, it now worked as a background for conversation rather than a nuisance disrupting it.

“So,” Harry said as he followed Malfoy on the terrace, “You and Callum are still on good terms…” he paused in the hopes Malfoy would offer some explanations to ease his mind without having to ask more directly.

Of course, being reassuring was not Malfoy’s forte.

“I guess you could say that,” he shrugged instead.

Harry gritted his teeth, damn Malfoy and his vague answers. “I guess you gotta play nice, with him making you famous and all – ” Harry held his breath, waiting for a reaction. Which didn’t take long.

“Tsk,” Malfoy sneered, “Is that what he told you? Son of a Squib, of course he did – ”

Harry only half listened to the series of profanities that followed, busy gloating at the clear annoyance on Malfoy’s face at his innocent comment. Good for him to remember an interview where Malfoy was asked that same question and he reacted as if someone had shoveled manure before his eyes.

“He shot my first portfolio, I’ll give him that, but I worked my ass off to get where I am, and I did it on my own,” Malfoy finished his rant with a sigh, shaking his head as he took a turn down a staircase leading to the gardens.

Harry felt a bit guilty, knowing he upset Malfoy, but not enough to quash the sense of triumph at having him railing against his ex.

They reached a white gazebo, softly lit with floating candles, where three people were gleefully chatting

“I thought you guys had left.” Blaise welcomed them with an arched eyebrow when he saw them.

“Nah,” Malfoy shrugged, “just giving Potter a tour.”

“A tour, of course – ” Blaise's comment turned into a groan of pain when Neville elbowed his side.

“I’m glad you guys stayed, how are you, Harry?” Neville’s sweet smile as he moved to make spice for him on the bench made him feel slightly better despite the realisation that both the homeowners had isolated themselves from the party.

“What did we miss?” Malfoy asked, sitting next to Pansy, opposite from him and Neville.

“Not much,” Blaise answered for everybody, “Given that our drama-magnet was busy giving tours – ”

“I refuse the title, if someone is a drama-magnet here, that’s Pan, remember the time she got drunk and laid in the bushes, whining because Weasley didn’t love her back?”

Neville swept in to save them all from the embarrassment – and to save Malfoy from Pansy’s murderous look.

“Yeah, but that time we were also busy with the naked dumbass in the main fountain demanding someone take pictures of him.”

Harry snorted as Malfoy shook his head. “I don’t remember that part.”

“Of course you don’t,” Neville smiled, “Pansy did not drink by herself…”

Malfoy still didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and let it go. “Fine,” he sighed, “not my fault I thrive on chaos and drama.” His comment brought a laughter to the group, easing the tension that arose after their arrival.

As they went on reminiscing funny episodes of their past, it felt natural for Harry to sit among them, admiring the ease Neville clapped back at the Slytherins, even going head to head against Malfoy and coming out of it unscathed.

Harry drank his Butterbeer, laughing at their stories and enjoying the quick Slytherin banter, much more bearable when it wasn’t used against him.

His gaze fell often on Malfoy, so handsome under the candles light, as he smiled and returned in kind all the teasing and jokes he got.

The laid back atmosphere lingered well into the night, and before Harry knew it, he found himself holding back a yawn. Neville must have noticed, though, because he gently squeezed his arm.

“It’s getting late,” he said, “are you guys staying the night?”

Harry waited for Malfoy and Pansy to nod before smiling and accepting Neville’s invitation.

“Great,” he smiled back, “then we can all have Draco’s pancakes for breakfast.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Harry said playing with the label of his empty bottle.

Malfoy said, “I can make pancakes,” as Neville turned to his boyfriend.

“We should go check if anybody else is still here.”

“Draco, I hope you don’t mind showing Harry his room. The teal one should be ready.” Neville then added standing up, promptly followed by Blaise.

Harry appreciated the discretion of his idea, but couldn’t stop his cheeks from blushing.

However, he appreciated much less Malfoy fawning over the room Neville mentioned, especially once they had left Pansy before her bedroom and they were alone. Had he changed his mind? He seemed perfectly fine at the idea of them having separate rooms.

“Teal room, huh,” he snorted, holding his breath as he hoped for some kind of reaction.

“Yeah,” Malfoy yawned, “Blaise’s mum thought naming the rooms would make keeping track of them easier.”

“I see. And which one is yours?”

“Royal blue.”

Harry rolled his eyes, not one bit surprised. “Of course it is.”

Malfoy’s smirk had his heart skip a beat.

“I’d share it, but I have to warn you, there’s only one bed.”

His eyes shone in the dimly lit corridor as they walked toward the end of it, with Malfoy stopping before the last door on the right.

“This is yours if you want it.”

Harry took in a sharp breath. Of course Malfoy was talking about sleeping arrangements, but he felt something hidden underneath his words that made him feel weak.

“No thanks,” he whispered, “I want royal blue now. We will have to make the whole one-bed thing work.”

**oOo**

Harry slept like a baby.

As in, he woke up at least once every hour, all hot and bothered, crying in frustration. He couldn’t help but feel like Malfoy was pranking him somehow.

He had lured Harry in his room, stripped down to his underwear and then fallen asleep as soon as his head had touched the pillows, his hand softly laying on Harry’s chest, a constant reminder of what could have been, and one of the reasons he couldn’t sleep properly.

He tried turning his back on Malfoy, in the hopes it would get the image of a vulnerable, undressed Malfoy out of his head, but that only made things worse, as he rolled closer, laying against his body, his breathing tickling the back of Harry’s neck.

Harry closed his eyes once again as he let out a slow sigh, but Malfoy’s dick rubbing against his ass shook him up right when he was falling back to sleep. He bit his lips to stop himself from chuckling in frustration. Using his elbow, he tried to push Malfoy away, but that only made him hold on to Harry tighter.

Malfoy even had the audacity to sigh in his ear, and Harry was ready to throw in the towel and go back to his room. But then his skin tingled under Malfoy’s breathing, so he sighed in defeat. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Light began filtering through the curtains before he realised he didn’t remember the last time he had slept with someone. Hook ups? Sure, he didn’t even mind hosting, but actually turn off the lights and fall asleep? That was different.

Malfoy’s breathing was the only noise in the darkness, his body warm against Harry’s, his arm pressed on his hip, his fingers tangled in Harry’s shirt.

It felt nice, it made his heart flutter, but it also didn’t let him sleep.

Harry gave up resting, carefully turning to face the sleeping beauty by his side. He wondered if Malfoy knew how long his lashes were. He probably did.

Holding his breath, he reached out to brush the tip of his finger against Malfoy’s cheek. He wrinkled his nose in response, but didn’t wake up.

A smile curled Harry’s lips. Never in a million years he would have guessed he would find himself in that situation, watching over a sleeping Malfoy. Did he know he was cute? Lips parted and the occasional mumbling in his sleep? He probably knew that too, but the Malfoy he remembered would never accept to be called ‘cute’. Harry wondered if _this_ Malfoy would.

Had he changed? How much, and why? Had the Wizarding World rejection really had such an impact on him? Harry blamed all those questions on his frustration. After all, it wasn’t Malfoy’s personality that pushed Harry to track him down.

Would he still care had he got what he wanted? Harry sighed. Probably not.

Things didn’t go as they were supposed to, they never did, Harry had made peace with that a long time before.

His gaze fell on the tip of Malfoy’s nose, slightly moving with his breathing. Harry didn’t know where the impulse came from, but he bumped it softly with his finger, freezing when Malfoy sneered in his sleep, but there was no other reaction, so he left out a sigh.

Silently chuckling for getting away with it, Harry turned his back on Malfoy once again. Better not push his luck any further.

Eyes closed, he left himself doze off, rocked by the sound of Malfoy’s light snoring.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the feeling of Malfoy’s fingers digging under his shirt to run on his stomach woke him up.

“This is nice,” Malfoy mumbled in a sleepy voice.

Harry swallowed, distracted by the sparks Malfoy’s touch ignited on his skin. “What?”

“A man in my bed to wak – Fuck.”

Harry frowned, tuning his head to look at his face.

“I feel asleep, didn’t I?” Malfoy looked so distraught Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Like a rock.”

“But it looked like you really needed it.” He then shrugged.

“I did,” Malfoy whispered, barely looking at him. His regret hit Harry as sincere. He smiled at Malfoy to reassure him. “It’s not a big deal.” But he shook his head.

“It is,” Malfoy insisted, “can’t believe I finally got you alone in a bed, and I fell asleep like a dumbass.”

Harry turned his face away to hide it from him. The weight Malfoy put on that ‘Finally’ suggested he didn’t mean just a few hours, and the thought had Harry’s heart roar in his chest. He shivered, electricity tingling his skin.

“Are you awake?” Harry asked, his eyes stuck on the wall across the room, not daring to look at Malfoy, fearful of what he might find on his face.

“Sort of,” the man answered, nuzzling against the back of Harry’s head, the palm of his hand warming up his skin.

“You smell nice.”

The comment brought a smile on Harry’s lips. “Thanks,” he chuckled, “I use rose oil for my bath, I think that might be it.”

“Mmh – I don’t think it’s the roses.”

Harry was glad the room was still too dark for Malfoy to see him blushing at his words.

Malfoy sighed in his ear, his fingers flickering over the elastic of his underwear. Harry held his breath, melting against Malfoy’s chest. He didn’t move a muscle, afraid to scare him off, but Malfoy got over his hesitation, his fingertips running over the bulge in Harry’s boxers, gently teasing him, but still cautious, like he feared Harry would take his hand off.

Harry sighed. He had waited enough. He moved his hips so slightly forward, rubbing himself against Malfoy’s hand, who brushed the back of his neck with his lips.

He could have sworn a Spell hit him: his skin tingled where Malfoy kissed him, over and over, new sparkles bloomed at every kiss. It felt nice, but not enough to distract Harry from the fingers sliding over the crease of his hip and under the elastic of his boxers.

Harry took in a sharp breath as they closed around his cock. Malfoy left a new trace of kisses, tickling Harry’s ear with his tongue, nibbling on it. His hand, warm and smooth, jerked his dick, which appreciated to be shown some attention after all those hours of waiting.

A soft mumble slipped out of his lips, “Malfoy…”

The chuckle in his ear surprised him.

“I have your cock in my hand,” Malfoy whispered. “Might be time to cut the formalities.”

Distracted by the warmth building up in his belly, Harry only managed to blurt out a “Uh?”, which gained him another chuckle.

“Say my name,” Malfoy suggested.

Harry swallowed, his eyes widening in surprise as he processed the request.

“Draco,” he mouthed, silently, to himself. The name felt so intimate rolling on his tongue.

“Draco.” Harry chuckled. Said out loud, the name rolled out even better, it fit that it forced his mouth in a pout, and that thought made him laugh even more.

“What's so funny, Potter?”

Harry turned his head, Draco sounded genuinely hurt by his reaction, taking away his hand and meeting his glance with a perfect pout of his own. He guessed he could try to explain himself, but he also knew actions speak louder. 

He pushed Draco on the mattress, ignoring his surprised gasp to straddle his hips.

“Back to last names already, aren't we?” Harry flicked his eyebrows, leaning in to stop what was surely some colorful profanity from coming out of Draco's mouth. He kissed him, eyes wide open to be able to spot any Hex coming his way.

Harry bit his lower lip, only then realising the opportunities that new position had to offer. His cock laid almost right on top of Draco's, and, rocking his hips, he rubbed them together. The fabric between them only added friction to his teasing.

Despite his body response, Draco's expression didn't lighten up. 

“Draco,” Harry mumbled as he bent to kiss the corner of his mouth, his hips still lazily swinging back and forth.

“Stop mocking me,” Draco whined, eyebrows knitted in a frown.

Harry tilted his head, “I’m not,” he paused to plant a soft kiss on the top of his nose, “I'm just trying it out.”

He lowered his head to brush his lips with Draco's.

“You are silly.” Draco's remark fell flat, especially after he parted his lips to let Harry nibble on the lower one.

“Sometimes,” Harry agreed with a smile. 

The needs of his body put aside for the moment, Harry focused on the lazy bickering despite the dick throbbing in his underwear. Time would come for that as well, but first, he felt the need to bother Draco a bit longer.

He left a kiss on Draco's chin, and he arched his eyebrow in response. Judging by the expression on his face, Draco grabbing his ass did not surprise him at all. He rubbed himself against Harry, holding him still to create more friction. A quick sigh left Harry's lips.

“You keep doing that,” Draco said. “And I might forgive your mocking.”

Harry bit the tip of his tongue. “Doing what?” he asked in his most innocent tone as he ground his cock against Draco's, and Harry could have sworn he felt it tug back.

Draco moaned, his fingers squeezed Harry's arse before sliding over on his thighs. “Exactly that.”

Harry snorted, stealing another kiss. Draco's tone allowed no objection, and he had none to offer. Better to pay attention to his lips, so sweet and ripened Harry was certain he would never grow tired of tasting them.

“Really?” he whispered, his lips tugged in a grin, “Is this really enough? Don't you want something more?”

“You know I do,” Draco sighed. “But I also know we don't have the time for all the things I want to do to you. Those need time and I don't like to be interrupted...”

Harry's grin grew wider. “That sounds promising.”

“Trust me, it is,” Draco gave his thighs a squeeze, “it'll be worth the wait.”

Despite the confidence infused in his voice, Harry spotted the bright pink tarnishing his cheeks.

“Well, then,” Harry smirked, "we better make this count...”

He licked Draco's lips, softly sucking on it, before he moved on to his jaw line and then his neck, leaving behind a trail of pink marks on the porcelain skin. He smiled hearing Draco sigh.

“Aren't you a tease,” Draco mumbled when he gently bit the soft skin under his ear, as Draco's fingers played with the hairs on his thighs. The glance he shot him sent a shiver down Harry's spine and right into his cock. In any other context, it would have raised an alarm in his mind, making him run like the wind, but in that moment it made his blood boil.

Draco looked ready to devour him, and Harry had no intention to stop him.

Following his devilish look, Draco ran his fingertips all over his thighs, igniting sparkles wherever he touched. He jerked up to meet Harry halfway before he could bend to kiss him again.

Harry smiled on his lips, parting his own as Draco dove his fingers into his hair, leading him into a deeper kiss that took his breath away and had his heart jump in his throat.

He hissed when Draco tilted his head to bite him on the neck, less gently than Harry did, but he had no complaints as Draco lapped the same spot, soothing the slightly scratched skin.

Harry tangled his fingers between the sheets, arching his back to expose his throat to Draco's teeth. The soft cotton caressed his knees as he dug them into the mattress to gain more traction to rub their cocks together.

“So you are turned on by my pictures.”

Draco's comment fell over him like a welcome sprinkle of cold water, bringing his attention back on his lover.

“You have seen nothing,” Draco said, his voice caramel poured on Harry's skin, burning and digging into his mind.

His fingers were back on Harry's arse, holding it tightly to lead him into a faster pace that had Harry shiver.

“Just say the word and I'll show you. I let Cal keep the mild ones, I have boxes full of photos that will make you lose your mind,” Draco whispered, his tone as soft as his touch, but enough to push Harry to pay attention.

“I'll show them to you,” Draco continued, leaning upward to nibble at Harry's neck. “Every single one of them, any kind of picture you can think of, I probably have it in my private collection...”

Harry closed his eyes, chewing on his lip as several possible images played in his mind, too many for him to know which one to focus on.

“What's your thing? Leather, lace, girly panties?”

Harry blinked, sure Draco was making fun of him, but his arched eyebrow suggested otherwise. “G – girly panties?” 

“Mmh-mmh.” Draco nodded, his devilish smile back on his face.

The image was too much for Harry to handle. Adding tights in his fantasy had his mouth water. He knew that pictures existed somewhere in the world, and the idea pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

He groaned feeling Draco's fingers back on his cock, gently squeezing and stroking it.

“That's what you like, uh?” Draco teased him. “You are lucky, I have plenty of those. I'll fuck you while you drool on them, I'll make you feel so good you will come back begging for more.”

His words dragged Harry over his limit. Swallowing the saliva in his mouth, he stroked the sheets with his fingertips, riding the surge of his orgasm.

He heard Draco say something, but the heart roaring in his ears prevented him from understanding his words. Draco's touch on his back soothed him as Harry crumbled on his chest, gasping for air.

He nuzzled under Draco's neck, glad when he wrapped him in a sweaty hug, seeking his lips to kiss him over and over until Harry calmed down.

Draco tickled the back of his neck, running his fingers through his hair, and Harry found himself yawning. He felt close to finally fall asleep, so he shook his head to clear his mind, dabbing his fingers on Draco's chest.

He smiled feeling Draco kiss the top of his head, and brushed his chin over his chest in response.

“Thank you for that,” he mumbled, smiling again at the soft chuckle coming from over his head. Draco made no comment, but he squeezed his arm.

“Hey,” he brushed, but the curiosity was too strong to be swept away. “Do you really have those pictures?” The silence following his question knotted his stomach. Draco tensed up in his arms and his fingers stopped caressing his hair.

“Well, yeah,” he finally sneered, shooting him a quick glance, and Harry read the concern in the crease on his forehead, but had no idea how to interpret it, or what had put a dent in Draco's mood all of a sudden. He drew circles on his chest, his eyebrow knitted together as he thought about their brief exchange.

“That's hot,” he grumbled with no hesitation in his voice, and that seemed to melt away part of the tension gripping Draco.

“It is,” he breathed, “glad we can agree on this.”

Harry propped himself up to look at his face. “There's people who don't?” He couldn't help but snort when Draco nodded slowly, chewing on his lip.

“Well, they are wrong, I want to see them, I want you to do the things you said.” Harry managed to finish his sentence despite the burning feeling on his cheeks. Draco sighed at his request, another reaction Harry didn't understand.

“You know, I should still have a few of those panties somewhere if you are interested.” The smile curling Draco's lips did not reach his eyes.

“I've never tried it, but it does sound interesting,” Harry replied warily. “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

“Not really,” Draco sneered. “But in my experience, this kind of thing tends to divide men in creeps and those who run the other way.”

His answer slipped out of his mouth before Harry could stop it, “You need to date better men then.”

Draco blushing wasn't the reaction he expected.

“I'm trying,” he mumbled, looking away as his cheeks reached the brightest shade of pink.

Harry blinked. “Oh,” he breathed, pushing himself up to sit back on the mattress.

“I'd understand if that's not – ” Draco rushed to explain, as Harry frowned, connecting the dots of their conversation.

“No, that's not – ” he began, pausing to put order into his thoughts, “I didn't know you were interested, I guess I just didn't think of that, I mean – ” Harry stopped his mumbling to take a deep breath. He peeked at Draco's face, still refusing to look at him, with the expression of someone who would rather take care of a Blast-Ended Skrewt than be having that conversation.

Harry chewed on his lip, guilt knotting his belly. He honestly didn't think about that. He didn't think about what Draco wanted at all. He saw his pictures, got horny and decided to pursue him. The thought of Draco's wants and needs didn't even cross his mind. He sighed, shame now hitting him in the face.

“I didn't think dating would be on the table,” he confessed the only thing that came in his defense.

“Honestly, I thought you would laugh at me and kick me out of the trailer, and then yesterday – ”

Harry paused, the memory sending a shiver down his spine.

“I mean – ” he swallowed. Draco's silence wasn't helping.

“We could try, if you are interested, we could go out, we could – ”

Draco finally spoke, “I'd like that. The trying part, I mean.”

“Good. Sure,” Harry bit his lip. “I guess I should – ” he paused again, unsure how to explain what he needed to say.

“People always have expectations,” he sighed, “They want to date Harry Potter, but when it comes to just Harry...”

This time Draco was looking back at him, a soft frown on his face.

“They get bored pretty soon and they... leave,” he blurted out, wrinkling his nose, hoping that would be enough to hide just how much that hurt him every time.

“Sounds like you need to date better people, too.”

The corners of his lips curled up at Draco's comment. 

“I read it on the papers, I know you usually date models or singers, I mean, glamorous people – ”

“You shouldn't believe everything you read on the papers,” Draco sneered, “I have dated plenty of guys that didn't end up on those articles.”

Harry didn't appreciate the sound of that, but he also knew he had no rights to comment on it.

Draco shot him a quick glance, his lips pursed in a strict line.

“I can be discrete if I need to.”

Now that was what Harry wanted to hear. It soothed his nerves, despite having no reason to truly believe him.

Deep down he knew magazines had the tendency to print whatever would sell more copies, they still insisted on writing about him despite all the precautions he took to protect his privacy after all, but he had also received reassurances like that by his partner before. In the end they all figured out he wasn't exaggerating when he said he much rather stay at home or at least avoid crowded places.

He doubted Draco would be any different, especially considering the kind of life he had.

Still, Harry felt the need to try. It made sense, somehow.

“So,” he swallowed, “would you like to go out with me?”

Draco shrugged again, “Fine,” but the confidence in his voice clashed with his blushing cheeks.

“I'll be out of the country for a couple of weeks, I'll owl you when I'm back.”

Harry shook his head, raising his eyebrows. Draco wouldn't be able to, no owl could find his property unless Harry let them inside the Guard Spells.

“Ok, then,” Draco said warily. “You owl me with yours, so I'll know you are thinking of me and I can write you with that one.”

Harry lowered his gaze. “I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“Don't be. We have the same Spells on the Manor. According to my dad, they keep away junk mail and people asking for money.” Draco smiled, but mentioning Lucius still brought a shadow on his face.

He cleared his voice before finishing his thought. “I tried putting them up in my loft, too, but I got a lot of complaints from fans and my agent threatened to Hex me, so...”

“You get a lot of fan mail, uh?” Harry snorted, not sure how to define the weight on his chest.

Draco shrugged. “Among some Curses and hate mail.”

Harry frowned. “Still? After all this time?”

“Well, I can hardly blame them, and things are getting better. My mail hasn't burst into flames in a while now.” Draco's lips curled up at his attempted humor, but there was still a bitterness in his voice to undermine it.

Harry dabbed his fingers on Draco's stomach, “I promise, no fire or curses in my letter.”

His words shooed away the clouds from Draco's face, whose smile opened up and got brighter.

“I appreciate that,” he smirked, “I'll be waiting for it, then.”

The softness in his voice wrenched at Harry's heartstrings. He decided he liked this side of Draco.

“If you were so inclined, a sexy picture in the mail is always well received.”

Harry snorted, “I was thinking the same thing,” he said flicking his eyebrows.

He guessed he could work out something to send Draco, how hard could it be?

“I should probably head to the kitchens, breakfast isn't preparing itself.”

Harry groaned in protest, but still moved to let Draco free to get out of bed. He watched him walk around the room as he got dressed.

“You remember where your room is, right?” Draco waited for Harry to nod before continuing, “You should go mess up the bed, then, you know, plausible deniability.”

Draco winked at him as he walked toward the door. Harry shook his head with a smile, watching him leave. No need to tell him he was right.

**oOo**

Harry smiled, moving to trim the edges of the last bush. It was a late bloomer, but every year it had the most beautiful roses of the garden.

It had poured the night before, the soil was still soft in the spots the sun hadn't warmed yet, but the plants were greener than they had been all summer.

Harry took a deep breath, eyes closed and a soft breeze caressing his hair. The sun shone in a clear blue sky, warming up his skin. He had taken off his t-shirt, which laid abandoned on one of the chairs under the porch.

He whistled in response to a bird chirping from its nest hidden among the branches of an old magnolia at the end of the garden.

Harry nodded, happy with the shape he managed to give the bush, much cleaner and ready for the new sprouts.

Taking care of his garden always put him in the best of moods; he couldn't help but smile at the ripe strawberries, sure Molly would turn them in the most delicious jam. Harry could already taste one of her pies in his mouth.

“What is it?” Harry asked when his cat, until then snoozing under the sun, got up staring at the clear sky. He lifted his gaze, but he didn't see what had caught her attention.

“What is it, Duchess?” he asked again scratching the back of her head. She patted him with her soft tail, showing appreciation for the cuddles, but her yellow eyes were still staring at the sky. Harry chuckled, not many things would wake her up or keep her from getting a full belly scratch.

“You girls need to learn to get along,” he said, looking up when he finally heard the high pitch screeching, and Bubbles soon followed.

The young owl glided midair, closing in to the garden, her ivory feathers beaming into the light of the late afternoon.

Harry walked to the fountain, summoning a few treats for her. Keeping himself busy helped him ignore the racing of his heart. He didn't expect her back so soon.

His hands trembled as he prepared a bowl of fresh water for her; he had never felt so nervous at the idea of receiving mail.

It had taken him almost three days to be confident in his note enough to send it to Draco, but he had almost immediately regretted writing about the plants he had recently purchased and his plans to try and adopt the cat that came into his garden every once in a while. In the end, he didn't have the guts to add a sexy picture.

Not that he didn't try, but all the shots he took looked simply ridiculous, like he was trying so hard to be sexy that he ended up looking awkward and out of place; he had given up and sent a picture of him relaxing on the sofa after a long day in his garden, Duchess sprawled on his laps as she had refused to get out of the shot. Harry had laughed, amused by her loud meowing as she moved around choosing a comfy position. The picture came out cute, but Harry had second guessed that too. It was too simple, too mundane, especially after he saw those Draco posted on his instagram while in Rio.

Harry shot a quick glance to his tomatoes, red and shining, waiting to be picked. He freed Bubbles of the envelope tied to her talon, gently scratching the back of her head as she happily chewed on the biscuit in his hand.

He put the envelope in his pocket without even peeking at it, too nervous to open it right away.

With a warning look at Duchess and Bubbles, who were staring menacingly at each other, he sighed, going back to work.

Harry dried the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm, taking off his soiled gloves to plunge them into the basket with the tomatoes and a couple of zucchinis.

The envelope in his pocket had poked at him all afternoon, and now it weighed a ton.

He hung it on the fridge as he made dinner, his gaze going back to it multiple times before he finally took it back.

Sitting in his favourite chair, Harry stared at his own name, neatly handwritten on the back of the envelope. He didn't recognize the seal impressed into the rich red wax, but he smiled at the little flower stuck in it.

Harry outlined the seal with the tip of his fingers, taking a few more seconds before breaking it.

Following his example, Draco had written little more than a note. A few lines in the same handwriting to inform him the shooting in Rio went all right and now Draco was back in Milan. In the last line he wrote he would be back in London at the end of the month, asking if Harry still fancied the idea of going on a date.

Harry smiled and sighed, those few words enough to make his heart flutter, he read them all over again before putting the note down to take a picture out of the envelope.

He took a peek at the back first, where Draco wrote, ‘Amethyst really wanted to say hi’.

Eyebrows knitted in a confused expression, Harry turned the picture.

His first reaction was an amused snort as his gaze fell on a beautiful, white Persian cat elegantly laying on a bed and staring right at the camera. Looking at those incredible eyes, Harry understood why Draco would give his cat such an unconventional name.

Draco laid beside, wearing what looked like an old comfy t-shirt that bared one of his shoulders and his collar bones, and, from the shooting angle, nothing else as Draco's naked thighs extended to the corner of the picture up until his knees to disappear out of the frame.

Studying the picture closely, Harry noticed the soft crease between Draco's eyebrows and the split-second glance he shot at the cat; paired with the caption, Harry figured they had faced the same stubborn-cat issue.

He smiled at the picture. Draco didn't send a racy picture either, but this one looked more real, intimate enough to make him feel warm.

**oOo**

Grateful for her help, Harry smiled at Hermione as her fingers swiftly fixed the crooked knot of his short tie. He had found his formal robes hidden away at the back of his wardrobe; he would have rather worn something more casual, but the event demanded formal attire, no exception, not even for a retired war hero.

Harry sighed. An official Ministry event was the last place he wanted to be that evening, but he had given Hermione his word he would make an effort and show up at one of those at least once a year, and the Children of War Foundation was one of the causes he held dearest to his heart, but still, he couldn't help but feel hundreds of eyes staring at him.

He drank the whole champagne glass in his hand, peeking around the ballroom, full of colorfully-dressed people, chatting away and, from where he was standing, having a good time.

Harry swallowed the envy grasping at his throat at how easy they made it look, to bring his attention back on the woman before him.

“Thanks.” He smiled at her, but Hermione shook her head, her earrings beaming under the light of hundreds of candles.

“Don't thank me yet, wait till you see where we are seated.”

“Centre stage?” Harry grimaced, and his heart sunk seeing her nod.

Hermione gave him a sad glance. “I'm so sorry, higher-ups insisted, but it will be just for the dinner, I promise.”

“It's ok,” Harry shrugged despite the weight on his chest; Hermione was under enough stress, she didn't need to worry about him too.

So, he winked in an attempt to reassure her further. “I'll need a couple more of this first,” he said, swinging the empty glass before her eyes.

“Me too,” Ron agreed, patting on his shoulder.

The Ministry sure didn't skimp on the booze, Harry thought slowly sipping his new glass.

He raised his hand and nodded to greet Callum from the other side of the bar counter; luckily for him someone else stopped to talk to him before he could walk over there. Harry didn't recognize the witch, but deeply thanked her.

He didn't expect to meet him so soon after inviting him out for a drink to definitely close their brief relationship. The memory still bothered him almost a week later.

Harry had a speech prepared, he had rehearsed it many times to be sure it was polite but clear that he didn’t want to go out with him anymore. And Callum had been understanding. Too understanding. He had listened to his words, nodding and sipping his orangy cocktail, nibbling on the plastic straw after emptying the glass. He had smiled and patted his arm. Harry expected much more drama, so Cal's reaction surprised him, but he couldn't shake the weird feeling at the back of his mind. Harry had slept on it, and only the day later he had realised Cal's understanding looked a lot like condescension. The bitter aftertaste didn't leave his mouth for days.

Meanwhile, Hermione had noticed his cold greeting with Cal. “How are things between you two?” She asked.

“They aren't, actually,” Harry whispered.

“Good.” They both turned to Ron, whose ears were burning red and his face half hidden behind his glass.

Harry arched an eyebrow, confused by his reaction, “What do you mean?”

“I heard things,” Ron shrugged, “not bad things, but things – ”

“What kind of things?” Hermione stepped in, her voice dripping impatience.

“They are not bad, just... I don't know, it's good it's over.”

Harry slightly shook his head, inviting him to explain himself.

Ron sunk his head in his shoulders. “They are just gossip, alright? But I heard people call him the Fixer. Seems like the guy has a thing for – for people down on their luck or something, and then he fixes them somehow, like, he helps them get back on their feet,” Ron said, putting the empty glass down on the counter.

“That doesn't sound bad,” Harry mumbled, giving Hermione a quick glance. The woman was chewing on her lip, and Harry could see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Hermione looked at him for a moment before answering. “I don't know. What happens once they are back on their feet?”

“He moves on to the next one, I guess,” Ron answered with a bitter smile.

Harry lowered his gaze on his own glass. Ok, that didn't sound great, but still not bad enough to explain the bad feeling he got from Cal. It would remain a mystery, he guessed.

“The whole Golden Trio at once, must be my lucky night.”

They all turned in the direction of the snarky comment. Harry swallowed, quickly glancing at his friends, afraid of his own reaction at Draco's presence.

“Malfoy.” Hermione nodded warily, a strict smile tugging her lips. Ron barely raised his hand, and that was good enough a greeting. Harry sighed, dabbing his fingers against the counter.

“Granger, you look nice.”

Harry arched an eyebrow at Draco's comment, but his next words killed any hope blooming in his chest.

“Weasley, you look a bit better than usual.”

“Some of us have real jobs, Malfoy, we can't all be pretty for a living,” Ron clapped back, his eyes rolled and a sneer on his face. He looked like he already reached his limit of tolerance for Draco; he patted on his thighs and stood up from the stool.

“Right,” he sighed, “should go say hi to Robards, or I'll never hear the end of it, Hermione, you coming?”

Harry pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. Using Hermione as a shield against his boss was Ron's oldest trick, and it worked every time. Ron swore Robards was terrified of his wife, and Harry couldn't agree more.

“You look so delicious in those robes I could eat you right here.”

Harry shot him a glance. “Really?” he snapped, pressing his lips together in a strict line.

“What?” Draco shrugged.

“You were an ass to my friends a minute ago!” Harry hissed, lowering his voice when the waiter came close to take Draco's order.

“Was I supposed to be nice?” He smirked. “That would be suspicious, don't you think?”

Draco turned to give the waiter a quick smile, while Harry chewed over his words. He was not wrong, but he didn't need to say that out loud, Draco looked smug enough as it was.

“Didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled instead.

Draco raised his eyebrows. “The Ministry must have scraped the very bottom of their guest list.”

“It's fine,” he then added lifting his hand to stop Harry's response. “Not like I was dying to come in the first place – ”

“Me neither,” Harry agreed.

“And yet, here we are.” Draco gave him a glance as he sipped his drink.

With the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of Callum passing by; he shook his head to shoo away the feeling of being closely guarded. Ron's words still rolled in his mind. He shot Draco a quick glance, biting on his lips as he gathered the courage to ask the question on the tip of his tongue.

“Can I ask you something? It's personal.” Harry leaned slightly in, to make sure nobody could listen in.

Draco raised his eyebrows, amusement dancing in his eyes; he licked his lips before slowly nodding.

“I know I have no right to ask, but I heard things and, I don't know, I still have this gut-feeling.” Harry stopped his mumbling to take a deep breath. Luckily, Draco seemed to enjoy his incoherence.

“Why did you break up with Cal?” Harry finally blurted out, his gaze glued on the counter.

“I didn't.” Draco's answer made him turn to look at him.

Draco tilted his head, his lips tugged in a humorless sneer. “ _He_ dumped _me_.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, unsure whether to pry further.

“Been together a couple of years, my career finally taking off, so I was traveling a lot. Came home from a shooting one morning and he had packed my bags, saying he was in love with some other guy.”

“Wow,” Harry whispered. He felt the bitterness in Draco's voice, but they were in public, so he didn't dare do anything to reassure him.

“Yeah,” Draco sneered, “Pansy calls him the Dementor, feeding on despair and suffering, she thinks he gets off on that.”

Harry scoffed. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Would you have taken it? Had I come to tell you to dump your boyfriend out of the blue?”

Harry looked away; he had blurted out his comment without thinking, he couldn't blame Draco for finding the conversation upsetting.

“I guess I did dodge a nasty Hex there,” he said instead, hoping it would bring the conversation back to a more casual tone.

“You did,” Draco agreed, shooting him a quick glance before checking the time on his wrist.

“Dinner's about to be served, I better go find my place.”

Draco stood up, but didn't walk away. Instead, he casually leaned in. “The other night was nice, let me know when you are free for a second date.”

His breathing on his ear sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He felt Draco's hand in his pocket, but before Harry could react, the other had walked away, confused in the crowd moving toward the dining room.

All and all, Harry had worse nights. Sitting next to Shacklebolt turned out not too bad, the Minister treated him like Harry and didn't push too much for him to join the conversation. He fell in love with one of Cal's pictures, but feared that bidding on it would send the wrong message, so he kept quiet during the whole auction. There was nothing he wanted or needed, and he had already sent his annual donation directly to the foundation.

He wished he could do more for them, like stand up and give a heartfelt speech to encourage donations, but the idea gave him cold sweat, so he ate his dinner silently praying nobody would come bother him.

Curiosity had him put his hand in his pocket right after Draco left the bar, and his fingers recognised the smooth surface of a picture, but he hadn't had the chance to look at it yet. He saw it as a reward for being there that night, but also brought him to wonder how Draco knew they would meet or if he just walked around with a picture to give away just in case.

The auction finally ended and dessert was served.

Harry cautiously tasted the purple, glittery mousse as he nodded to something Robards was saying, not really listening. Everybody was still heartbroken he had given up his Auror training a few weeks in, Harry didn't need to hear that story again. He had no intention to go back on that decision, but having that discussion again might bring problems for Ron, so he simply shrugged and kept his attention down on his plate.

Hermione rolled her eyes, careful not to let Robards see her, before excusing herself from the table.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. If Hermione had begun saying her goodbyes to the people she knew, it meant the moment they could leave was getting closer. He did his best to pay attention to the conversation, the idea of leaving gave him a burst of energy. He even laughed at one of Shacklebolt's jokes, although Robards' humorless face was funnier than the joke itself. Ron was right, the man was allergic to humor.

His gaze fell on Cal, seated a few tables away on his left, returning his smile with a lipless one, but the look in his eyes made Harry doubt he would be able to leave without a few words. He averted his eyes, the cold feeling back in his guts. He didn't need to be _fixed_ , he thought, he would not play Cal's games.

Harry brushed his fingers to the pictures in his pocket, the only positive note of the evening. Consumed by curiosity, he wondered if he had the time to find the bathroom and take a quick peek of the image, but that would have meant walking through the room, in front of everybody, all alone, as he couldn't ask Ron to go with him.

A sight he would have never expected to see made him forget about the picture for the moment.

A few tables away, Hermione had sat down at Draco's table, and the two of them were talking. From their body language, they both looked at ease with each other. Hermione was laughing while patting Draco's arm, and he was giving her a smirk. Harry was sure his jaw had dropped on the floor.

He elbowed Ron to catch his attention. “Is that really happening?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Ron mumbled after following the direction of his gaze. Harry gave him a side-eyed look. Why didn't he sound surprised?

“They do that sometimes,” Ron shrugged, “they are not _mates_ or anything, but they kind of get along now.”

“What - when did that happen?” Harry asked, unable to look away from those two, still talking to each other. That was more than getting along, that looked more like being friendly from where he was standing. Well, sitting actually, but still.

“A few years ago,” Ron mumbled, and Harry didn't need to look at him to know his face was as red as his robes.

“Years!?” he blurted.

“Yeah, Malfoy apologized to her for being an ass and offered to help in a few of her campaigns, I guess they are cool now.”

“And you guys didn't tell me because...” Harry let his sentence open, bothered by Ron's reticence. When did he stop telling him things?

“You know why, mate.” He couldn't handle Ron's gaze, so he looked away.

“You guys thought I'd obsess about it,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, “And for no reason, I checked.”

Harry gave him a quick smile, “You did?”

“It's Malfoy, of course I checked when he showed up at Hermione's office. He is still an ass, but it looks like he did clean up his act. He is alright, I guess,” Ron shrugged again as Harry raised his eyebrows. Hurt and confused, he needed a moment to take in Ron's words.

When he looked up again, Hermione had left the table and Draco had gone back to his dessert.

He turned hearing Ron clear his throat.

“Since we are talking about it,” Ron said, “He is the one of my sources on Callum's _things_. Well, Neville is, but I wrote Malfoy too and he confirmed, so yeah...”

“Thanks for telling me. I won't freak out, I promise. You say he is alright and I trust you.” Harry tilted his head, infusing as much honesty in his voice as he could. He and Ron exchanged a long look, but in the end his oldest friend chose to trust him too. Ron nodded, gently squeezing his arm.

Harry turned again, but this time Draco had disappeared from the table now empty. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, he had hoped he would get to wish Draco goodnight before leaving. Harry looked for him through the crowd, but Draco was nowhere to be seen.

He waited until he was alone, back at his home, before pulling the picture out of his pocket. No caption this time. A black and white shot of a torso, one could only tell it was Draco's because of the Dark Mark on his arm. Harry sighed at that detail, but then his gaze ran over the rest of the picture. The drops of water dancing on his skin, the towel hugging his hips, the trail of soft hair under his navel. Temperature in the room rose at least ten degrees as Harry couldn't take his eyes off the picture.

Best part was the corner of the one he sent visible beside the sink in Draco's bathroom. He had taken the picture for him, and for him only.

They were getting closer to the kind of picture Harry dreamed of, but in the meantime this one would come to the bedroom with him.

**oOo**

Harry slowed down, out of breath. Sweat ran down his back, damping his shirt.

“You ok?” Draco asked jogging back towards him when he realised Harry was no longer by his side.

“Yeah,” he panted massaging the muscles of his thighs, “I just need a minute.”

He smiled as Draco put his hand on his shoulder, sincere worrying on his face.

They had been running for a while now, although Harry had no idea how long. He had kept up with Draco at first, but soon he had found himself falling behind. He had taken the opportunity to peek at Draco's ass, but soon he was left out of breath, unable to keep running.

“Not exactly what I had in mind when you suggested going for a hike,” he mumbled when he finally got his breath back.

Draco frowned. “What did you expect?”

“I don't know,” Harry shrugged, “A nice walk, maybe? Definitely not jogging.” He massaged his side, hoping it would help with the pain. Definitely not what he expected from their second date.

“I'm sorry,” Draco said, his gaze on the ground and a new shade of pink on his cheeks that Harry doubted had anything to do with the exercise or the fresh air.

“I guess I just wanted an excuse to spend some time with you, I didn't think – ” the smirk was back on his face, but his eyes were still dense with concern for him. Harry gave him his best smile, but he feared he came out looking more like a sour face.

“I don't mind being here with you, but the running... I guess I'm more out of shape than I thought – ”

Draco shook his head. “Nonsense, you are hot. You are just more of a lifter than a runner, it's fine.”

His words helped Harry feel better, although he had to look away at the compliment.

“Tell you what,” Draco said. “Why don't you go rest under those trees? I'll join you as soon as I finish my laps.”

Harry looked in the direction he suggested, and the soft shade under the branches did look tempting, but he didn't like the idea of disappointing Draco leaving him alone.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” he asked.

Draco must have felt the concern in his voice, because he tilted his head and gave him a soft glance. “Of course,” he reassured him, but Harry shook his head.

“I'm ruining our date,” he groaned, guilt weighing on his chest, and Draco's arched eyebrow didn't help.

“You are not.”

Harry noticed the change in Draco's tone. A sparkle lit up in his voice.

Draco closed the distance between them and put his hand on his side.

“You go catch your breath,” he smirked, “I'll finish my jog, make out with you until you are out of breath again, and then you can buy me a smoothie at the stand.”

Draco's wink only made him blush harder.

“How does that sound for a date?”

Harry wrinkled his nose, but the smile on his face betrayed his thoughts. That did sound like a nice plan.

“I'll wait for you then,” he said with a wink. Draco's cheekiness had finally rubbed on him, and he felt light leaving the track, sure Draco was looking at him as he walked away.

And he still was when Harry looked up after sitting on the grass, although he was pretending to stretch his muscles. Draco winked one more time before running away.

The grass felt nice between his fingers; Harry leaned against one of the trees, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. He had to admit the place was delightful. Set in the countryside, the track ran beside a bubbly stream, surrounded by trees that offered plenty of spots for a break. He had never been there before, but Draco had assured it was one of his favourites, secluded enough they could be sure nobody would bother them. And he was right on that, too, the few people they met were too busy with their own exercise to pay attention to each other.

Harry followed Draco with his eyes, playing with a few strands of grass, until he disappeared behind a hill. He sighed, moving around to find a more comfortable position. Draco's reassurance had worked only partially, the feeling of having ruined things between them was still there, which was admittedly ridiculous. It was just a second date, something casual Draco had said when Harry had Firecalled him; hike and coffee had sounded unusual to Harry, but they were both activities that didn't involve crowds, so he accepted, surprised that Draco seemed to be keeping his words of being discrete.

He picked up a few daisies to stop his fingers from trembling as reality daunted on him. He was falling for Draco Malfoy, hard and fast, and he was powerless to stop it, he didn't want to stop it.

Draco was a challenge, 100% unimpressed with the myth of Harry Potter and, just like him, he bore the scars from their past.

The sexy bastard was under his skin, and Harry could only hope he was there to stay.

Without thinking, he put a daisy behind his ear; he picked a few more to arrange them in a crown. Keeping his fingers busy helped him focus on his thoughts.

Draco had been out of sight for a few minutes now. Being all alone in a new place made him feel uneasy, but not having people close helped him slightly relax.

Harry cast a few spells to clean the dried sweat, feeling much better once he couldn't smell himself anymore. Usually he didn't mind, but waiting for Draco made him self-conscious about it. He then ran the fingers of both hands through his hair trying to tame the wild locks on his hair, combing them back, away from his face.

Hearing stomping on the track gravel, Harry lifted his eyes. Draco had taken a turn and was running towards the point where they had stopped before. He looked completely focused on his run. All flushed and messy-haired, Harry found him gorgeous.

Draco slowed down, coming to a halt, and took off his shirt, using it to dry himself as he walked toward Harry.

His gaze fell on Draco's torso, glistening under the sunlight. Harry took in a sharp breath, he was still not used to the effect Draco had on him. A painfully clear image of himself licking away the sweat drops from Draco's body and tasting his salty skin played before his eyes; Harry sucked in his lips, wondering if Draco would let him do it.

“Hi, gorgeous.” Draco smirked at him as he got closer, but a shadow darkened his smile when he saw Harry's reaction.

“Not big on compliments, are we?”

He sat down next to him, elbows resting on his knees and eyes studying Harry's face, before stealing one of the daisies from his hair to put it behind his ear.

Harry shrugged. “I mean – gorgeous?”

“What about it?” Draco arched his eyebrow. “You don't think that suits you? Well, you know the saying about beauty and the eye of the beholder...”

Harry snorted. Getting out of his head was so easy with Draco around.

“Wait,” he frowned, “so you think I'm - pretty?”

Draco shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah, always have.”

At those words, Harry's mind went blank as he stared at Draco wide-eyed. “Always?”

“Well, yes,” Draco blushed, “at first I was pissed you didn't want to be my friend, it never happened before so it caught my attention, and then... I guess I never looked away...”

Two decades. Draco had thought he was pretty for two decades. If anything, it showed his consistency. The thought had Harry lightheaded.

“Why didn't you say anything? Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I didn't realise it at first and when I did it was too complicated...” Draco let his voice die down.

“And I'm telling you now because I think you need to hear it. Not all of us are attracted to _Harry Potter_ , some just think _you_ are hot – ”

“Some?” Harry teased him, trying not to drown in the embarrassment filling his chest.

“Well, I do," Draco shrugged, “besides, there's nobody else here, so if you tell anyone it'll be your word against mine, nobody would believe I said such things out loud,” he smirked lifting his eyebrows.

“Really, nobody?” Harry asked, amused by the expression on Draco's face.

“Not a soul,” he shook his head, “just don't test it out on Pansy, for no reasons, just don't go ask her.”

“For no reason.” Harry nodded, laughter tickling his throat.

“None in particular, no,” Draco confirmed in all seriousness.

Harry gave him a side-eyed glance, his lips curled in a smile. “You are silly.”

Draco nodded his agreement. “Sometimes,” he whispered, leaning in to close the distance between their lips.

**oOo**

“Ok, one hour and then we can leave,” Draco said, leaning in to steal another soft kiss from Harry's lips, his arm wrapped around his hips like he feared Harry would pull away.

Instead, Harry indulged him, shooting him a quick glance before turning to the building right around the corner of the alley they Apparated into. A Muggle, one floor building, shining new windows and a line of at least twenty people waiting to get in. The exterior was too modern for his tastes, too linear and lacking decorative elements whatsoever, but he kept those comments to himself. After all, Draco didn't complain about the rustic pub Harry brought him to just a week before, despite looking completely out of place in the dimly lit, roughly furnished bar. Seeing him sitting at the table gave Harry second thoughts on his choice of venue, but Draco had downed his pint, cheerfully chatting about his life in Italy like he went there every day, incredibly at ease despite the new environment.

“We can stay longer if you want to,” Harry said. If Draco could do it, he didn't see why he couldn't, also, this being a Muggle place, the chance someone would recognise and bother him were close to none.

Draco turned to look at him, an eyebrow arched. “But I don't want to,” he said. “The owner is an old friend and I promised I would stop by at her great opening, an hour is more than enough, she is not that good of a friend.”

Harry snorted at the comment, impressed by the nonchalance Draco cut through the crowd with, ignoring the protests and dirty looks he got from the people around them.

Less than a minute later, a waiter in a purple uniform was seating them at a table in a corner.

Harry shot Draco a quick glance, but he shrugged. He expected a table in the middle of the room, and the attention, instead they were on the side, at a more private table for two.

“So, what kind of cuisine does she make?” Harry asked peeking at the menus the waiter left on the table.

“I'm not sure." Draco frowned. “I think Celia said something like fusion or futuristic. She also used the words experience and concept, but I wasn't following anymore, I don't know what she meant," he added as he played with the melted plastic thing in the middle of the table Harry assumed was the centerpiece, and it startled them when it began fuming as soon as Draco moved a little lever.

“What the – ”

In the lack of better words to describe it, dinner was interesting.

Harry had watched suspiciously what was supposed to be the rare steak Draco ordered, but was presented as three brown jelly cubes on an otherwise empty plate. His lemon couscous pie came hidden under a green half-globe he had to break with his fork, doubtful whether it was edible or not. He left it on the plate just to be sure.

Harry gave up on the whole cuisine when his chocolate cake turned out to be some fumes he was supposed to inhale from a vial. Draco's face was his only consolation. He looked defeated. He had dutifully taken pics of the dishes to post on his profiles and clapped loudly when the chef, a young, chubby woman with bright green hair had paraded around the room, but once his job was done, he was left staring at the dark red droplet in his plate, a berry cheesecake in theory, but clearly not.

“You know what? I'm done, I can't... doing this to a cheesecake should be a crime, we are leaving,” he sneered, throwing the handkerchief on the table.

Harry snorted, but he couldn't deny he agreed with Draco.

The moon was hidden behind fluffy looking clouds when they came out of the restaurant. A light breeze ruffled his hair.

On Draco's suggestion, they went for a burger to eat on a bench along the Thames bank.

“I have a confession to make,” Draco announced while sipping on his iced tea.

Harry kept his eyes on the stars reflecting into the bubbling water. “Go on.”

“I knew it was your birthday last month.”

“That's your confession?” Harry spat, relaxing his shoulders.

Draco sighed, “Well, yes. I didn't know if you liked it being acknowledged and we just started dating, but it still feels rude not saying anything, especially because I don't know if there will be other chances to – ”

Harry peeked at Draco, who was dabbing his fingers against the paper glass, his gaze low and cheeks flushed. He smiled.

“I don't mind the acknowledgment, but I don't like making a fuss about it. Usually I have dinner with the Weasleys, open my presents, eat Molly's cake and go home. Simple things, no fuss. You know, for future references.” Harry blushed, as his soda became the most interesting thing he ever saw.

“Did you buy me a gift?” he then asked, hoping it would melt the tension between them.

“Sort of,” Draco shrugged, making Harry turn with a confused frown on his face.

“How do you _sort of_ buy a gift?”

“Well, I didn't _buy_ anything, but – ” he paused to shoot him a smirk, “I still might have a surprise for you.”

Harry nodded warily. “Ok. What kind of surprise?”

In response, Draco flicked his eyebrows, but that did nothing to help with Harry's confusion.

“I see, you are a bit dense, let me spell it out. I finally had the time to put together all my pictures, if you still want to see them.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed. “So you are like – inviting me to see your collection of sexy pics?”

Draco shrugged. “You could say that, yes.”

“I thought it was some kind of dirty talk...”

“It was,” Draco nodded, “but I saw how much it turned you on, would have been stupid of me not to use it...”

Harry cleared his throat. The words Draco had used – and the images they evoked – replaying in his mind.

“Any chance I get the panties too?” he asked, his voice way huskier than before.

Draco tilted his head, shooting him a long, lingering look.

“Depends if you ask nicely,” he purred.

Harry insisted, “I'm asking nicely,” making him chuckle.

“Who's wearing them?”

Harry blanked. He had fantasized about it quite a lot, but he had never really explored any option other than the one Draco suggested.

He arched an eyebrow, startled by a prickling feeling in his pants.

“What did you do?” he asked, glancing at the wand Draco was pointing at his crotch, but he winked as he put it back in his pocket.

“You'll see,” he said standing up.

Harry looked at him, shifting his position oh so slightly trying to understand what Spell Draco used. His boxers shrank and the fabric felt softer on his skin, and Harry wished he could see it. 

He took Draco's hand, shutting his eyes as he prepared himself for the unpleasantness of an Apparition. He stumbled, still close-eyed, in a small living room, bumping against an old sofa. He had never been in Draco's flat before, but in his mind he imagined something more... luxurious. The room looked more like a studio than an actual living room. The walls filled with bookshelves and Magical artifacts. Polished, strong wood seemed to be the common denominator of all the furniture: the bookshelves, the table and chairs, the door and window frame, and even the staircase leading upstairs looked made out of the same type of wood, the floor covered with a soft, white carpet.

When his gaze fell on the boxes on the table, though, he forgot every thought about the furniture. The three large boxes left little to no space on the table. Harry glanced at Draco, who offered a smirk in response.

“Are those really full of pictures?”

“Well, no,” he sneered. “They are just for dramatic effect.”

Harry snorted at the comment. “It worked,” he said, walking up to the table. Laying on top of the box in the middle, a single picture of Draco sitting on the kitchen counter, looking at the camera with a smirk on his face, long naked legs dangling underneath him. Harry bit his lips. He could see himself getting closer to the man in the picture, wrapping those legs around his waist and kissing him until he lost that cocky smirk. What a delight it would be to make him lose control of himself.

He sighed as the real Draco brushed his lips on the back of his neck. Harry picked up the picture to look at it closely, but, as soon as he touched it, another one fell on the box out of thin air.

Harry arched his eyebrow, surprised by it, and took a peek. A naked Draco had his back turned to the camera, his head tilted to let the water from the shower head run down his neck and back.

He gasped, his fingers flickering with the need of getting closer to the Draco in the picture to wash his back and play with the drops of water and trails of bubbles gliding down his pearly skin.

Draco's hand on his belly brought a smile on his lips and he sighed when Draco kissed him again, nuzzling against the back of his head.

He hesitated before touching the second picture, enjoying the feeling of Draco's fingers caressing his back.

Harry swallowed at the sight of the new photo, and didn't hear Draco drop on his knees. In the shot, he looked like he was tiptoeing away from the camera, wearing only a pair of black lace panties that hugged his hips and barely covered the upper half of his arse.

He took in a sharp breath, blood boiling in his veins, startled by the chuckle coming from below. He blinked in surprise when Draco tugged his trousers down to his knees, and Harry managed to take a peek of his own panties before Draco yanked at those too. Deep mauve panties, he spotted a tiny bow on the front and their nice contrast against his golden brown skin.

All the comments died in his throat as soon as he felt Draco's tongue against his skin. Holding on to the table, Harry got lost in a storm of pleasure that had him weak and took his breath away.

Harry arched his back, pushing his arse against Draco's face, and he didn't hold back either, eagerly licking and teasing his hole. The flicking of his tongue brought tears of joy in Harry's eyes, sure he could melt under that tireless stimulation.

Draco nibbled on his buttcheek, making him gasp, as he played with the fabric of his panties.

“Keep watching the photos,” Draco whispered, his tone lewd and rough. Harry blinked at his request, his head empty, his heart roaring in his chest. He looked down at the pictures on the table, brushing his fingers against the last one. He licked his lips, basking in the view of the new picture. Draco was still in the shower, facing the camera this time, a red towel tactically placed to cover his dick, leaning with his arm against the shower stall, raised eyebrows in a pleased expression. Harry held his breath, unable to look straight into those eyes, so intense he felt they were staring into his soul.

“Draco,” he gasped, shivers running down his spine, but Draco gave no sign to slow down on his passionate attack. Harry bit his lips, nail scratching on the wood, rubbing his cock against it in search of release.

Draco chuckled, gently pinching his skin right below his buttcheek, and Harry left out a sigh of relief when he stood back up, giving him the pause he so desperately needed. He leaned on the table, his legs too weak to sustain him. The gentle touch of Draco's fingers on his back a welcomed soothing balm as Harry tried to come back to reality.

“Feeling better?”

“Great, thanks,” Harry panted in response. He made the mistake to look into his eyes. Draco was still fully dressed, but that didn't matter, Harry focused on the storm brewing in his eyes. He felt it in his belly, he was ready to let Draco do whatever he wanted, he only asked he kept watching him like that. It was the same look he had in the picture Callum had shown him months before, but in the photo it didn't make it justice. In person, it was much more intense, more nuanced, and Harry had the sensation of having molten iron in his belly.

He stuck his finger inside Draco's pants, pulling him closer. He smiled at his pleased expression as he leaned forward to kiss Draco on the lips, glistening and bright red.

Draco let him lead, adapting to the pace Harry dictated, a nice change from his previous passion.

Harry ran his hand over his shirt, playing with the tiny white buttons. He unbuttoned a few, brushing his knuckles against Draco's soft belly.

He raised his eyebrows, biting on his lips as he took a step back. Harry frowned, but his pout melted into a smirk as soon as Draco began unbuttoning his own shirt, letting it slide along his arms and onto the floor. His belt hissed when Draco tugged it out of its loops.

Harry licked his lips in anticipation. “They are the ones you wear in the pictures,” he whispered, his gaze stuck on the intricate lace.

“You like them?” Draco teased him. Not trusting his own voice, Harry slowly nodded without lifting his eyes.

“Should we go somewhere more comfortable?” Draco asked, and, once again, Harry only answered with a silent gesture of his head. He shook it as he tugged on his panties, which fell at his ankles, and he kicked them away. He ignored the chuckle coming from Draco as he pushed the boxes on the floor to sit on the table. His hole was still sensitive, but Harry ignored that too.

Draco left out a long sigh, but when Harry glanced at his face, he didn't look bothered at all; his lips were slightly parted and his eyes darker than Harry had ever seen before. He took it as a good sign, which got even better when Draco walked up to throw his arms over his shoulder, overwhelming him with the same burning passion he had shown to his ass.

Soon out of breath, Harry ran his fingers through Draco's hair, leaving soft kisses on his lips and cheeks. Draco blushed, but kept coming back for more, tilting his head and turning his face to offer him new spots to kiss.

Draco's fingers were smooth and gentle on his skin, running along the curve of his back, kneading the muscles of his thighs. He lit up sparks wherever he touched, and soon Harry felt lightheaded again, as impatience grew in his belly. He wanted more, he needed more. 

He laid back on the table, leaning on his elbows. He didn't know how to be more explicit than that, but luckily Draco got the hint.

He ran his hands over his chest, his stomach and down to his belly; Harry took in a sharp breath when they brushed against his cock, but Draco moved them on his hips, pulling him closer to the edge of the table.

Draco leant in to kiss him as he pushed himself inside his body. Harry gritted his teeth; despite the rimming and the lube, his body still burned at the intrusion. Draco caressed his back, mumbling soothing words on his lips, patiently waiting for him to relax in his embrace.

“I'm ok,” he whispered against his lips, kissing him as he arched his back to help his body stretch to welcome Draco inside him.

Harry sighed feeling him move with a slow, gentle pace. He closed his eyes, riding the waves of pleasure pouring over his body.

Draco ran his finger through his dark air, nibbling at the soft skin of his neck. He was tender and careful with Harry's body, changing his pace to indulge his needs.

Soon, Harry found himself gasping for air, his body shaking with burning hot pleasure, his mind light and empty; he wrapped his thighs around Draco's hips to pull him closer as he reached pure bliss with a hoarse moan, digging his fingers in the muscles of his back.

Draco followed him soon after, with a last, deep thrust before collapsing on his chest, face buried in the crease of Harry's neck, who hugged him and caressed his back, leaving kisses on his hair.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the Cleaning Spell, but made no comment about it, focusing instead on the man that cast it. A disheveled Draco was pulling up his panties, his throat covered in pinkish marks where Harry had bitten him, his eyes still darkened from the passion they had just shared, and his cheeks flushed. Harry noticed his lover didn't look back at him, so he frowned, sitting up straight with a groan of pain.

“Draco,” he called. “Are you alright?”

He slowly nodded in response. “I can't believe I just fucked Harry Potter.”

His words weighed on Harry's chest like a dragon sitting on it.

“Congratulations?”

Draco shot him a long glance. “I didn't mean it like that,” he sneered, “I have wanted it for so long it feels a bit unreal that it finally happened.”

Harry looked back at him, and Draco didn't avert his eyes, staring at him with an open and honest expression that wrenched at Harry's heart; Draco rarely showed any vulnerability, and he had soon learned to treasure those moments.

“My ass has this effect on men, should have warned you.”

Harry licked his lips, waiting for his joke to land, and landing it did. Draco shot him a shocked glance, but could do nothing to stop the chuckle in his throat.

Harry winked at him before picking up the mauve panties. Now he had time to properly look at them, he had to admit Draco chose them wisely. Simple, no weird lace or frills, and a natural, hearty color. They did look like the kind he would choose for himself if he ever had to buy a pair of panties.

Sitting on the couch with Draco, he ran his fingers through his blond hair, soft and silky despite the sweat.

He appreciated the man in the pictures, so sexy and confident he had him weak with just a glance, but he would still choose the real Draco any day of the week.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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